


Drawn Together

by icandrawamoth



Series: Kinktober 2017 [22]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Bottom Cassian Andor, Feelings, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, Hand Jobs, Kinktober, Kinktober 2017, Kissing, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Neck Kissing, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Battle of Scarif, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Rimming, Scars, Spit As Lube, Tags Are Fun, Time Travel, Top Poe Dameron, Virgin Cassian Andor, Virginity, Wall Sex, Yavin 4, hand-wavy time travel nonsense, the Force works in mysterious ways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 12:38:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12557556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: A time distortion draws Poe and Cassian together. With so much in common but so much they can't really say to one another, they still manage to find a deep connection.





	Drawn Together

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Kinktober day twenty-two prompt "scars."

Poe loves the Resistance with everything he is. He knows how utterly important it is. He's ready to give his life if he has to, has been ready since the first time Leia Organa asked him to join.

But he's still human. Sometimes he's just...tired.

As he occasionally does when he feels this way, he's secured some leave time to visit his father on Yavin 4. A day or two away usually does it, helps him refuel and get back in the game. His X-wing breaks atmosphere and passes over the old Rebel base on its way to the homestead – but today, on a whim, Poe circles back around and brings the ship down in the old landing field. The tiles are cracked and uneven after decades of being abandoned to the elements, but he manages the maneuver easily enough.

It's far from his first time at the Massassi Temple. How he could he resist, having grown up so close to the place? The place where the fledgling Rebel Alliance first came together, where the battles of Scarif and first Death Star were launched from. The place is practically holy with the history it contains.

Poe instructs BB-8 to wait with the ship as he pulls a lantern out of his supplies. He doesn't plan on being here long; perhaps a quick walk around will help clear his mind.

The inside of the Temple looks the same as it has for years: nearly stripped from when it was abandoned, empty alcoves lining the walls where machinery and communications equipment used to be, the few things that were left behind moldering and falling apart, left for nature to take over.

He wanders down the corridors, one hand trailing alone the cool stone wall, no real direction in mind, until a sound suddenly catches his attention. He pauses, one hand automatically going to the blaster on his hip. Any sounds around here would normally be one of Yavin 4's native creatures having decided to make one of the Temple's protected spaces home, but this was different. Sort of...electric, an ululating _zzzzap_ followed by a short crackle before the halls went silent again.

More slowly now, on alert, Poe creeps forward. He knows the Empire had been here in the past, after the Rebels left, and the occasional tourist after that. There's nothing the First Order could possibly want, is there? He hadn't seen any other ships outside, any indicator of another person's presence...

He rounds a corner and sees low light emanating from one of the rooms. Creeping closer, he peers around the corner into the room.

There's a man inside. Just a hair taller than himself, short black hair, brown jacket, tan pants, and when he turns – Poe loses his breath, because he _recognizes_ him. Someone he's seen so many times, in holos and on displays, in files he read back in the Academy. Someone who definitely shouldn't be _here_.

The face before him is none other than Cassian Andor.

Cassian starts when his flashlight's beam catches on Poe. He looks almost as confused as Poe suddenly feels, and his eyes similarly take in the man he faces, sliding over his nameplate before moving to his face again. “...Kes Dameron?” he asks, uncertain, as if he already knows he's wrong.

“My father,” Poe answers, because he's still too shocked to say anything but the truth.

“Don't be ridiculous. You're older than he his.” Cassian's hands go to his hips. “Tell me what's going on.”

“I'm as lost as you are, buddy,” Poe says honestly. He steps fully into the doorway, staring at Cassian, trying to make any of this make sense. The Rebel spy died thirty-four years ago; everyone knows that. And yet here he stands. Poe can clearly tell he's not a holo or anything of that sort; with what he's said already, probably not a clone...

“How did you get here?” Poe asks.

Cassian crosses his arms. “I don't even know where 'here' is.”

“The Massassi Temple on Yavin 4,” Poe tells him. “You don't recognize it?”

Cassian frowns, looks around the room. “This is...not right.” He eyes snap back to Poe, laser focused. “Who did you say you were?”

“My name is Poe Dameron.”

“Kes's son,” Cassian repeats. “But that's impossible.” His frown deepens. “Unless...” He groans, pressing one hand to his face. “Unless it was a time distortion. Dammit.”

“A time distortion?” Poe repeats. He's heard of such things, but they're exceeding rare, and he doesn't think one has ever lead to something like this.

“I was in my room,” Cassian says, starting to pace, his tone indicating he's working it out to himself aloud more than explaining to Poe. “This room, I think. There was light, a sort of...crack in the air, then this flash of light, and I was here.” He turns back to Poe, chewing his lip. “I have to get back.”

Poe nods mutely. Of course that's true. If Cassian is still alive in his timeline, suddenly thrown over three decades into the future, Scarif hasn't happened yet, and if Cassian isn't there, how badly will that screw up everything. But...

“You will, somehow,” Poe says with more confidence than he feels. “I...know some things you end up doing that you clearly haven't yet. If the timeline was different because of this, I wouldn't still have that knowledge, right?”

“That sounds right.” Cassian stares at him, wheels clearly turning. Poe can imagine. The questions he must want to ask coupled with the danger of what the resulting knowledge might change. “Can you...do you have any way to prove this isn't my time?”

“Yeah, sure.” Poe steps forward, fishing a holoprojector out of his pocket. “How about this?” He calls up a series of images, things that wouldn't have existed in Cassian's time: First Order ships, the T-70 X-wing, the Senate buildings on Hosnian Prime – and when he flicks to a last new image, the Resistance symbol. He hadn't exactly meant to show him that one.

“Resistance?” Cassian asks, taking in the Aurebesh immediately. “Is that what you're calling the Rebellion now?” He glances at Poe again, takes in his flight suit, and Poe sees something in him break. “Are you still fighting the Empire?”

“No!” Without thinking, Poe grabs his hand. “It's not...like that.” _Not exactly._

Cassian stares at him, wary. Weary. “What is it like?” he asks, voice brittle.

Poe sighs. “I probably shouldn't tell you. It might change things.”

Cassian jerks his hand away. “I'm an adult and a soldier. Assuming I manage to get back, I can still do my duty if you tell me what's going on here.”

Poe closes his eyes for a long moment. He doesn't know Cassian, not personally of course, but he's come as close as one can through study. He took a particular interest in the man back in school, studying every file he could get his hands on. He knows the things Cassian gave up to serve the Rebellion, everything he lost, the way he kept fighting and never complained. Poe wants to give him good news now, and he can't.

“If you're trying to avoid telling me I die, stop being foolish,” Cassian snaps, his voice _almost_ completely steady. “I've known that was going to happen since I first joined the Rebels. Don't patronize me.”

“I'm not.” Poe doesn't want to do that either. He sighs again, tells him cryptically, “There's always another enemy to right, right? The wheel turns, and, well, here we are.” He shrugs, indicating

himself, the conflict between the Resistance and First Order Cassian doesn't know about.

Cassian seems to slump. “Well, there is that.” He looks up, a tiny spark of hope in his eyes that's almost painful. “Can you at least tell me we manage to get the Death Star plans?”

Poe feels like the breath has been punched out of him. Is it really that late for Cassian? He manages to keep his voice steady as he asks, “Where exactly are you from? What date?”

Cassian tells him, and Poe swallows hard. The night before Scarif. _Kriff._ Poe has managed to run into Cassian Andor on the last night before his death.

Cassian is watching him closely, his own expression clouded. “So I'm not going to survive tomorrow's battle.”

“I never-” Poe manages, but Cassian cuts him off with a wave of his hand.

“I said don't patronize me,” he barks, but again, his voice isn't entirely even. Poe can sympathize. There's a difference between knowing the mission you're about to go on could be suicide and _knowing_ it's going to kill you. Cassian turns away. “Don't tell me anything else.” This, too, Poe understands. While Cassian will still fulfill his mission knowing his own life is forfeit, knowing the fate of his friends and fellow soldiers could yet budge him. He won't risk that, and Poe won't either.

“For what it's worth, I'm sorry,” Poe says softly. It seems cold comfort.

Cassian nods. “It was inevitable. And at least it's such an important mission. Worth it...” He trails off, that question he won't ask.

Poe chews his lip, thinking, and finally he allows himself to say, “You succeed. Your team gets the plans to the Rebellion.”

Cassian turns back, and his look is one of overwhelming relief. “That's good to hear. We know victories like that come with a cost.” Poe isn't sure whether the 'we' means Cassian and his team or Cassian and Poe; both are true. Cassian shakes himself, starts pacing again. “So, knowing that, I still have to be there. So how do I get back?” He rubs his chin, searches the room with his gaze.

“Maybe the distortion will reappear?” Poe suggests. “If that link was to this spot, it might show up again if we wait.”

“That's probably the best idea we have to go on.” Cassian sighs and leans against a wall, crossing his arms. “This is crazy,” he mutters.

“Tell me about it,” Poe agrees. He wonders how long they'll have to wait, if indeed the link between times does show up again. How long will it be before his dad expects him? He can't bear the thought of leaving this room to send any kind of message.

They stand there in silence for long moments, neither really knowing what to say, drawn together mysteriously across time, so much they can't really say to one another.

Cassian makes a vague attempt to break the tension. “At least I never expected to die a virgin,” he says, going for off-handed. Poe chokes, and the other man spears him with a look. “Is that so hard to believe? I was a part of the Rebellion from the time I was a child, a spy from not much longer after that. Never had a lot of down time to get close to people. You have time for a lover in this Resistance of yours?”

“I don't have one myself,” Poe admits sheepishly, “but...”

“You get around.” Cassian laughs, not unkindly. “You pilot types are all the same.”

“I think I should be offended by that,” Poe says mildly.

“Don't be; it's just an observation. Anyway, there are always people screwing around to blow off tension – and we have plenty of that between the adrenaline and the constant threat of death.” Cassian shrugs self-deprecatingly. “The casual thing was just never for me.”

Poe can't help but find it unbearably sad. Not that Cassian has never had sex, but the fact that he wanted to have it with someone he truly cared about, and he never experienced that either. “I could...” Poe finds himself saying. “If you want.”

“Help me not die a virgin?” Cassian chuckles roughly, but his eyes are trained on Poe, head tilted in consideration. Poe recognizes it as the look of a man who knows he's going to die and no longer has to consider the ramifications of any action. A man who can have what he wants. “I suppose we are going to be passing some time here together...”

Poe senses it's the closest to a clear-cut yes he's going to get, and he steps forward, places himself right in front of Cassian, looks into his brown eyes, and leans forward for a kiss. Cassian responds easily enough, parting his lips to let Poe's tongue inside, leaning in as Poe brings a hand up to his cheek, running his fingers over the course texture of his beard.

When they part, a small smile works it's way onto Cassian's face. “I said I was a virgin, not that I'd never kissed anyone.”

Poe grins, accepting the challenge. “If you can still talk like that, I'm not doing my job well enough.”

Before Cassian can respond, Poe turns him around, pressing him to the wall and going to work on his neck, pressing sucking, biting kissing down the side of his throat as his hands slip under his jacket, caress the warm flesh of his waist. Cassian sighs at these renewed ministrations, tilts his head to give Poe better access.

He lingers there for awhile. He wants nothing more than to take his time, make this good for Cassian, but his gut twinges when he remembers they don't know how much time they have. So, pressing one last kiss to the juncture of neck and shoulder, Poe moves on. He steps back and begins to pull off Cassian's jacket, the other man helpfully shrugging his arms, then next it's his shirt, tan and sweat-soaked, and Cassian raises his arms to let him remove it. Poe drops the clothes in a pile on the floor next to him, and when he turns his eyes back to Cassian, he loses his breath at what he sees.

Cassian's back is covered with scars. Seemingly every inch of flesh is marred by the long, white lines of old-finished knife cuts, burns, old blaster wounds, and others Poe can't identify the origins of. Some of the wounds he can catalog from the reports he's read; most he can only begin to guess at.

Cassian looks over his shoulder at him, expression uncertain. “What-?” he begins.

“I'm sorry,” Poe murmurs. For Cassian's hurts. For his reaction to them. For what's going to happen to him when he leaves Poe's arms. Poe forcibly puts that last thought aside for now and goes on touching Cassian. _Like a lover_ , he reminds himself. One finger traces the largest knife wound, a thick pucker starting on his right shoulder and continuing almost to his left hip. Poe's touch is gentle, so gentle.

“Everyone has scars,” Cassian mutters. He's turned away again. “These are nothing special.”

Poe wants to argue. Everyone has sacrificed for their ideals, everyone has hurt, of course they have, but there aren't many who have given as much as Cassian has, hurt as much. Poe tries to convince him with touch, tenderly caressing every old injury, touching fleeting kisses to every patch of marred skin.

Cassian is shuddering before he's halfway done, like it's all too much. “This isn't – what you promised me,” he manages.

Poe acknowledges it, moves to kiss behind Cassian's ear again. “How do you want to do this?” he murmurs, relishing the tremor that runs through the other man's body.

“I always imagined...but neither of us has supplies, do we?” Cassian says, cutting himself off.

Poe has never been one to let circumstances like that stop him. “I think we can mange.” His hands land on Cassian's hips again, tugging him close, drinking in the little _oh_ he breathes out when he feels how hard Poe is already. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you inside me,” Cassian says, soft but even. “Please.”

Poe curses, bites at his neck again. To think that he'll be the only person in the galaxy to have fucked Cassian Andor, to have given this selfless man the pleasure he craves and deserves. “Yeah,” he breathes, voice husky. “We can do that.” His hands fumble as he reaches around to undo Cassian's belt; a moment later the other man knocks them aside to do it himself, and together they push down his pants and underwear. Poe pulls Cassian's hands away again, guides them to the wall before getting a grip on his cock. It's so hard for him, hot and perfect in his hand as Poe gives him a few experimental strokes. Cassian's breath hitches at the touch, his body arching against Poe in a way that informs him he still has _way_ too many clothes on.

He leaves it for the moment, though, continuing to touch Cassian, strokes slow and easy until the other man's hips start twitching forward, demanding more. “Not yet,” Poe murmurs against his neck and pulls back, kissing his cheek as he whines at the loss.

Quickly, he strips himself of his own clothes, letting them ball around his ankles as he keeps his boots on. In the ruins of the old base, it's safer that way. Part of him wishes he could find a bed to spread Cassian out on, give him the thorough ravaging he deserves, but this is all they have, and he's going to make the best of it.

A second later, his hands are back on the Rebel, guiding his pants down as well, kneeling as best he can without falling over. Poe hears Cassian catch his breath as he takes his cheeks in hand, pulls them apart to see the pink, virgin hole beneath. _Beautiful_ , he thinks, and goes in.

Cassian howls, every part of his body clenching with the unexpectedness of Poe's lips on him in such an intimate place. “Relax,” Poe tells him, licking across his hole, gratified at the way he shudders. “We have to get you slicked up, and this is the only way to do it.”

Cassian nods jerkily, bites his fist to keep his sounds to a minimum as Poe continues to prepare him, lapping unabashed at his opening until he starts to loosen up, then pressing inside. All the time, Cassian whimpers and flexes around him, so clear that he's never experienced anything like this before. Poe tries to be careful, to go slow, to prepare him without overwhelming him, without making him finish too early.

“There,” he says finally, wiping his mouth on his hand and pasting himself to Cassian's back again. “Still with me?”

Cassian's only answer is a soft moan. Poe grins, coaxing him to turn his head to he can kiss him again. Cassian's lips are slack, body overcome with pleasure, and Poe is just getting started. “I'm going to put my fingers in you now,” he murmurs against swollen lips. “Are you ready?” Cassian nods, sucking in a sharp breath as Poe eases one finger inside him, pumps it slowly in and out. “Good,” he murmurs encouragingly. “Try to stay relaxed for me.”

Soon another finger joins the first, and Poe curls them just so, searching for his prostate – and knows he's found it when Cassian jerks against him, letting out a startled whine. “Shh,” Poe murmurs, free hand smoothing across his flank. “I've got you.” He moves his fingers again, Cassian's pleasured cries like music. Poe shifts, thrusts his own neglected cock shallowly against Cassian's thigh. He can be patient, but both of them are going to need more soon.

“Can you take another?” he asks, and Cassian nods, stretching easily three fingers in a way that draws a groan from Poe's throat. “You're amazing,” he finds himself saying. “Just wait-”

“I think I'm ready,” Cassian says lowly. “Please-”

“All right. All right. Just one more thing.” Poe draws his fingers out slowly and guides Cassian around to face him, back to the wall. The man is a sight: eyes wide and dark, mouth open, red and panting. Poe can't resist another kiss, licking deep into his mouth, feeling Cassian anchor himself with a fist in his hair. It feels so good. Poe breaks away to catch his breath, tells him, “We're going to need more saliva.”

Cassian looks puzzled for only half a moment before realization dawns in his eyes and he drops unhesitatingly to his knees. A second later, Poe's cock is surrounded by wet heat, and he braces his hands on the wall, biting back a curse. Cassian is enthusiastic if inexperienced, drawing him in as far as he can go, tongue experimenting in ways that make Poe's toes curl. “That's it,” he rasps, one hand fumbling down to land in Cassian's hair. “Get it nice and wet.”

Cassian licks and slurps lewdly, and it takes everything in Poe not to just spurt down his throat. “That should do it,” he says finally, easing Cassian off of him. He pulls the other man to his feet, and starts to turn him toward the wall again, but he protests.

“Like this.” He's looking away, but his jaw is set. Poe can't quite read his expression.

“We're doing this your way,” he agrees, guiding him backwards until he's resting against the wall again. “Are you ready?”

Cassian nods, teeth closing on his lip.

Poe guides one of Cassian's legs up around his own hip, positions himself – and slowly slides in. They lose their breath at the same time, Cassian's head slamming back to hit the wall as his mouth drops open. “Easy,” Poe pants, smiling. Cassian is so tight around him despite the prep, and it burns a little without real lube, but it's _so good_.

“Like this,” Poe encourages, tugging gently at the leg Cassian is still standing on. “I'm going to hold you up – put your other leg around me.” They manage to coordinate the lift, and Cassian gasps as it has him sinking deeper onto Poe's cock. He clings to him, arms and legs wrapped tightly around his body.

“Just like that,” Poe breathes, and he balances Cassian against the wall, pulls out as much as he can and thrusts back into him. Cassian's mouth comes open again in a cry, practically begging for a kiss, and Poe obliges, sealing their lips together as he finds a rhythm of slow, deep strokes that have Cassian sighing and groaning into his mouth.

For long, long moments they enjoy the pleasure together until the growing intensity makes them more frantic. Cassian grabs at Poe's shoulders as his whines grow more insistent. Poe grips his legs, thrusts coming harder and faster. Suddenly, Cassian rips his mouth away from the kiss with a gasp, and Poe feels it all over his body as he convulses in his arms, coming hard, painting both their chests with white.

He can't not follow, dragged over the edge as Cassian's body clamps down on him, gasping his own release into his partner's damp shoulder. Poe lets himself catch his breath for only a moment before pulling out, setting Cassian back on the ground before his shaky limbs betray them both. Cassian goes limp against the wall, still panting. He looks so debauched, it makes Poe's stomach clench: hair mussed and sticking up everywhere, mouth agape, entire body shiny with sweat, cum dribbling down his thighs. Poe's now-soft cock twitches valiantly, but he's not quite as young as he used to be.

Finally, Cassian's eyes open again, and he looks up at Poe, a soft smile working its way onto his face. “That was...”

Poe grins back. “You weren't so bad yourself.”

Cassian turns away, suddenly shy, and Poe has to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. He catches his chin and turns him back for a quick kiss. “Everything you hoped?” he asks when they part.

“Yes. I'm...glad I got to feel that. Before the end.”

The mood in the room abruptly sinks. “I'm glad I could do that for you,” Poe says honestly. His hand lands on Cassian's shoulder, thumb caressing the bare flesh there lightly.

Cassian nods, his gaze drifting away again.

Poe steps away, picks up his undershirt from their pile of clothing and gives himself a wipe before handing it to Cassian, who accepts it with quiet thanks and does the same. They redress in silence, finishing with Poe helping Cassian into his coat. He holds it out as Cassian shrugs into it, then smooths the creases along his shoulder before stepping back.

Poe aches with things he can't say. He wishes this wasn't a one-time thing. He wishes it didn't feel so cursory – wishes there was a bed for them, someone where he could take Cassian to lie down, hold him while he falls asleep. Touch him again, gently, tenderly, when they wake. But that's not how things are.

Cassian is staring at a corner of the room, hands on his hips. “How long do you think we have to wait?” He must see the confused look on Poe's face, because he prompts, “For the time disruption to return?”

“Oh. Um...”

And then the very air seems to come to life, crackling and bright, and Poe's eyes widen as a slash seems to cut itself across the room, a jagged line of lightning that twists and throbs in the air.

“That's it!” Cassian cries, eyes just as wide. He turns to Poe. “You should get out of here before you get taken, too.”

Poe hesitates, and as he's about to move, Cassian steps toward him, takes his hand.

“One more thing,” the Rebel says earnestly, eyes intense. “Do people remember us? My team and me?”

Poe can't lie to him, not now. “Not as much as the people who actually destroy the Death Star, but yes. We remember you.”

Cassian's face breaks with relief. “They destroy it. Even if no one ever remembers my name, that's worth it.” He smiles, tiny but hopeful. “Thank you, Poe.” He leans forward, and Poe meets him, one last kiss before Cassian steps away and moves toward the disruption. Poe runs for the door, turning just as there's another bright flash, like an explosion without percussion or sound, and the room goes dark and empty but for his lantern sitting on the ground.

Cassian is gone, returned to his own time. He must be: Poe still remembers everything he did before, both what's gone on here and what happened in the past. Nothing has changed.

Except, perhaps, him. He'll never be able to tell anyone what happened here – no one would believe him – but he'll never forget. That look in Cassian's eyes, relief and hope, so fragile but so strong, will never leave him. The time he spend with a man who was so selfless he was ready to go back to the fight guaranteed he would die...Poe will remember it when he feels run-down himself, when it seems nothing he does will ever be enough to make a dent in the First Order.

It takes awhile before he can make himself leave, but finally he picks up the lantern and takes himself back outside to his X-wing. BB-8 beeps at him, curious and concerned.

“I'm fine, buddy,” Poe answers with a slightly wobbly smile as he straps himself in. “Let's go see Dad.”

**Author's Note:**

> ~~If you tilt your head just a little, this becomes the "Captain Jack Harkness" episode of Torchwood. I swear I didn't do that on purpose, but I'll take it, because that episode is amazing.~~


End file.
